


Patrochilles Drabbles

by Lthien



Category: The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller, tsoa
Genre: Angst, Helen of Troy - Freeform, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Mention of blood, POV Achilles, POV Patroclus, Protective Achilles, achilles is overly confident as usual, achilles isnt having any of it, after the death of patroclus, battles, cute idiots, i hurt myself, my babies are sad and i hate it, patrochilles - Freeform, patroclus has self worth issues, tags to be added later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-10
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-08-14 04:06:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 5,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7997971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lthien/pseuds/Lthien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A growing collection of drabbles that I have posted on Tumblr...I love this book so much, and it has destroyed me. Do yourself a favor a read this book, okay? The tears are definitely worth it. :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Want

Achilles is weeping. His tears are hot upon my ashen hand, running down my fingers like water upon a leaf. I want to touch him, kiss him. I want. I remain still. Patroclus, he says, Patroclus. My name is endless, though a voice no longer carries it. I can feel it in my soul. It has been days, my body long cold and gray. Achilles does not care. He does not smell the corpse as he kisses the tips of my fingers, his green eyes holding the woes of the earth and heavens. He hopes still that I will open my eyes. He hopes that I will rise. He hopes.

I will not rise.

I will not touch him.

I will never hear his song again.

Apollo has made it so. The god’s black eyes laugh at me now. I am forever climbing the walls of Troy. Bronze is heavy upon my skin, weighing my body down. The walls forbid me entrance. They taunt me. The gods have cursed me to never touch Aristos Achaion again. My flesh is torn, Achille’s kisses bringing no ease to my fingers. He cannot touch them. I cannot feel his lips, soft and wet.

I want. Touch me, please.


	2. Everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2! :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> part 2! :) I'm really liking this and may continue with the short drabbles for a while before I try a longer fic!

I feel my blade run red. It is easy. His body is soft, human. I twist my wrist, watching his pupils dilate in agony and dim. It is not enough. It will never be enough. 

/What has Hector ever done to me?/

“Give him back to me,” I demand, my words not directed to the corpse upon my blade. It is directed to the being behind it, Apollo. He does not answer. I feel my body tremble with fury, my tears blinding. I raise my blade to the heavens; Troy’s most beloved raised high. I challenge you, my eyes scream. The limp body slides to my blade’s hilt, brown curls nearly resting upon my bloodied hand. It weighs nothing, none compared to my heart. My eyes never leave Apollo’s black ones. He trembles, and I know I have won. I smile.

This is what they wanted. This is what I was born for. This is my curse, and demise. The earth will not be at peace until my heart stops its raging. The ground will flow with the blood of my enemies. They will know this now.

I challenge you.

I feel my hands grip rope, tying tight knots around limp ankles.

I challenge all.

My chariot lurches forward, the leather reins slippery with blood.

Slay me.

Screams reach my ears, but only just. I do not look back, I look up. The heavens rumble, and a rain drop hits my cheek. It runs like a tear. My eyes do not blink, they challenge and plead.

Kill me.

Let me touch him, please.


	3. Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another drabble...more fluffy than heart-wrenching. :)

Achilles dreams. I pray they are peaceful. His breaths are long and deep, my body rising and falling with them. I press a hand against his warm skin, feeling his heart. It calms me, but I know of what rages within it. There is a god hidden in this flesh, beneath the softness of him. Only in sleep is he free. My eyes burn wet, but I dare not look away. I cannot.

I want more time. I want to watch him breathe. I want—

“Patroclus,” Pa-tro-clus. I freeze. Green eyes are upon me now, clear and divine. I feel a shiver run down my body, the burn of my eyes worse. He rises, pulling me closer to him. My hand is still on his heart, the beast steady. His skin is warm with sleep. “Patroclus,” he murmurs again, soft. His lips kiss away my tears, soft and open. I close my eyes for the first time, the sting telling me it has been too long. Calloused fingers dance upon my jaw, coming to a rest upon my cheek. His nose bumps my own.

“Daybreak is almost upon us,” He tells me simply, his golden threads blending with my dull ones. Nyx laughs at me, taking my Achilles far from me. She pushes him into Apollo’s light. My fingers grip him, the man beneath me pausing. Stay, I want to say; scream. Do not go where I cannot follow. My eyes must tell all for Achilles nods at me, his eyes losing their joy.

He knows my heart. He knows my fears. He knows I will not live if he dies. Or when he dies.

“There is still time left,” my Achilles says as if he means for sleep. I understand his meaning for I know his heart, and his fears. I nod quickly, grateful nonetheless. I let my body sag, my head resting upon his chest. Sleep takes me the moment his arms encircle me, the last of my tears pooling beneath my cheek.


	4. Two Wishes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "So he prayed, and Zeus the Counsellor listened. One wish the Father granted, but the other he denied."
> 
> Achilles readies Patroclus for battle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been informed that "fluff" is not an accurate description for the last chapter. So...my bad. XD
> 
> Well...this isn't fluff either. I'll get there...eventually....I'm still in pieces over the book so all I have is misery. I need to share it with everyone. :)

Achilles takes his helmet in hand, the last of the deed. It feels cold and unfamiliar as he places it on his lover’s head. Thick brown curls disappear in it, along with the softness of his Patroclus. He takes a deep breath, placing his palms on his chest plate. He takes him in, his fingers tracing elaborate designs, twirling around suns. Deep brown eyes watch him from bronzed shadow, the gleam of metal bright in them. His lips start moving on their own, trying to distract him from his fears as he gives Patroclus orders: _Do not leave Automedon. Do not fight. Do not fight. Do not fight._ He says the last multiple times, his voice growing tighter. </p>

“When you come back, you’ll have an armor of your own.” He murmurs to Patroclus lastly, his fingers fiddling with a strap that is already too tight, eyes serious. “And it will never lose its shine, and will never be struck. It will be a marvel for centuries.” Patroclus huffs a laugh.

“You mean it will be a novelty piece,” Patroclus murmurs with a small smile, one which Achilles mirrors. He sighs and bumps his nose against Patroclus’ own, one of the only parts that is still soft.

“If that is how you see it, then yes.” _I will be your armor_. Patroclus envelops him in bronze in reply, the two clinging to each other fiercely. </p>

_Come back to me._

_Come back to me._

_Come back to me._

It rings in the air without the need to be said, Achilles’ fingers trembling upon Patroclus’ armored shoulders. He closes his eyes and prays, willing anyone to listen to him. He prays for Patroclus to be bathed in glory. He prays that he will feel him soft, and his again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on tumblr? Lothlorstiel ;)


	5. Swear It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something that was a short 200 word drabble that turned into a 700 word short-fic....  
> Basically reincarnation au/college au! ;)

Long fingers skim down my torso. The muscles jump, leaving the hairs standing on end. I blink at Achilles irritably. It is dark, but I can still see the lovely gleam of his eyes and golden hair turned silver in the light of the moon. His face is one of concentration. “What is it now?” I yawn, trying not to bury my face into my pillow. Achilles does not look at me. In fact, his eyes have not left the spot where his fingers faltered moments before. My eyebrows furrow in concern. “Achilles?”

“I’ve been thinking,” Achilles murmurs softly, something beyond my reach flashing in his eyes. I groan and flop on my back, staring at the ceiling. His hand still lingers upon my upper torso, possessive.

“That can’t be good, then,” I joke lamely, turning to look at him. He cracks a smile, the one that burns through me like the sun. I roll over again, my hand keeping his hand upon me. “Well, you’ve woken me up now. Please tell me what is going on in that golden head of yours.”

“It’s something Dr. Bailey said in class today. What he said about birthmarks.” Achilles tells me, his eyes staring deeply into mine. I gulp, confused by the sudden flash of…something that shoots through my body. The weight of his hand feels heavier somehow and I drop the grip I have on it. Achilles simply blinks at me.

“Something about birthmarks being related to how someone died?” I ask and my eyes land on the mottled shape right above his heart. I reach out and touch it. Achilles’ eyes close almost immediately. Fear spikes in my heart as I try and think of what Achilles’ birthmark could mean if it were true. A gunshot? A knife to the chest? Spear? Arrow? Stop. My hands reach up to cup his face, my eyes wide with useless worry. My heart only stops roaring when he opens his eyes again, green and gold. Alive.

“You worry over the silliest things,” Achilles tells me with a small smile. He wraps his bronzed arms around my neck and kisses me. I hold onto him tightly, afraid that he might disappear if I were to let go. You make me like this, I think to myself. My heart is still in my throat. I cannot bear the thought of something happening to him. I do not think I would survive it. No, I know I would not live if he were to di—

“It frightened me,” Achilles murmurs against my neck. The hair there stands on end with the sweetness of him. “Patroclus,” he says, “Patroclus.” Yes, yes, my soul sings. His fingers find my birthmark again, his fingers spread wide and trembling. “Who would do this to you?” His voice changes into something dark. It is deep and ancient, terrible. “Who would dare?”

“Stop it,” I say sternly, knocking my nose into his. “All of this is bull, and you know it. How the hell would anyone know anyways? They made it up. You shouldn’t worry about it.” It should make sense, but there is still something wedged in my throat. Achilles had that look in his eyes. He was so far away from me, somewhere lost. Even now he looks at me like he sees right through me. He probably does. He always has.

“I cannot help it,” Achilles tells me, his voice honest. He props himself up on one elbow, silvery hair skirting across my face like silken kisses. His eyes stare down at me, fierce and soft all at once. “When I think about it I feel nothing but woe in my soul. It tells me I am forgetting something important. It tells me to keep you always within my sight.”

“I’m okay with that,” I try and joke but I can feel my eyes start to sting. Achilles rolls his eyes.

“I’m trying to tell you something, you idiot.” I choke a laugh, reaching up for him. I pull him down to me, tucking him close to my side. I press a kiss to his temple, Achilles still huffing.

“I am not going anywhere, love.” I murmur and I feel him cling tighter to me. “And neither are you.” Achilles turns to look me in the eyes, his green eyes wet.

“Swear it,” His lips slowly quirk up.

“Swear it? Why?” I ask as I usually do in this game of ours, feigning confusion.

“Because you’re a jackass,” Achilles says and I laugh out loud, my head thumping back against my pillow. He kisses my throat.

“Oh, I swear it,” I say as his face comes to hover over mine. His smile is bright and he kisses me again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a professor named Dr. Bailey btw and we talked about birthmarks in class today hahaha


	6. Mercy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is Menelaus who finds the body.

It is Menelaus who finds the body. I see his face crumple with despair like through a fogged glass. With his shield in one hand, and spear in the other, he lets out a loud cry. The people surrounding the corpse dissipate, dropping bronze. The bloodied warrior stands over me, red-faced and teary-eyed, determined to protect my broken body. Achilles’ armor lies beside it in pieces, the bronze stained red with fingerprints. The battle is over now, and we have tasted victory, but…

“Patroclus,” Menelaus cries. He throws down his weapons and turns to the corpse, my name passing through the sea of bodies like a curse. Hector left his spear. It is Menelaus who pulls it out. I watch him weep, the man closing my faded eyes. The survivors begin to crowd around, their eyes low and hopeless. Menelaus wraps me carefully, using his own cape. He wipes the blood from my cheeks and takes me from the battlefield himself. I am forced to follow, connected to the cadaver until I am put to rest. I wish they had burned me on the spot, gold upon my eyes, so I would not have to face the outcome of my passing.

Cheers echo throughout the bleakness. No doubt the kings are clasping each other’s shoulders in victory. There is no joy from the returning men, only the clanging of dropped swords and armor hitting the dirt with each passing step. They return with a load upon their hearts. Someone would have to tell Achilles. In the end it is Menelaus. He refuses to let anyone touch me; take me. _Stop, stop._ I beg him. _Burn me. Burn me first._ He cannot hear me and I am reminded of my state.

Achilles greets his men like a hurricane, his green eyes locked on a pale foot. Menelaus’ look is confirmation enough. I see something inside my Achilles snap, something deep and foretold before his birth. He rips the corpse from Menelaus’s arms as his fist connects with his face. Menelaus hits the earth hard, head bowed in submission and repentance. The other men follow suit, down on one knee, head low. Achilles’ eyes are death as he lets out a horrible sound. It rips through the camp, everyone knowing immediately that I am gone. I know that Achilles would slash his throat had I not taken his sword with me. For this, I am grateful. I am grateful still for the men who grip Achilles’ wrists, fear in their eyes as Aristos Achaion’s eyes gaze at the daggers in their belts. I beg again for gold to be placed upon my eyes. I beg for mercy as Achilles weeps over my corpse. I beg mercy for Troy.


	7. Helen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Helen visits the monument of Achilles.

Dainty fingers touch rough stone, the pads writing out a name. _A C H I L L E S_. I watch this exchange curiously. I am unsure of how to take her presence. It has been over a year since the fall of Troy, and yet here Helen stands. She is shrouded in black from head to toe. Nothing has changed since I was a boy. Even in death I am not allowed to see the face that caused the death of thousands. If I were able, I would ask her if it was worth it. However… _love_. My memories cannot blame her for it. They do not hate as I think they should. If she had loved as fiercely as I…then I feel nothing but woe for her. Why has she come?

My hands ghost over hers, wanting to feel as she does. Why do her eyes sparkle with tears, veiled beneath the shadows of death? Has she lost someone that dear? Her head is bowed now, one palm pressed against my Achilles’ resting place. One in which we share. I am bound to the stone. I am bound to the earth.

Does she know of me? Of the boy who was entangled in her fate from the age of nine? Would she remember my name if it were written beside Aristos Achaion’s? Probably not, I muse. Why should she, after all? I am merely a man, not divinely blessed, nor cherished. I look at Achilles’ monument softly, longingly.

“They say you loved like no other.” Helen says softly. Her voice is enchanting, sweet and smooth. I look at her, wide-eyed as she sinks to her knees in the sand. It is not something a queen should do. Not _Helen_. “They speak of your _philatos_ , mighty Achilles. Of how you raged war for the man you loved beyond all others…How you smiled before your face struck the earth.” I feel the earth somehow shift as she lifts her veil. I stare at her, shocked at what I see.

Scars. There are so many scars upon her face. They are harsh lines, jagged. However, the direction of the scars tells that they are self-inflicted. I reach for them, my fingertips shaking. She cannot feel it as my hand cups her cheek, her skin rosy compared to my dull, translucent, gray. I press my forehead against her own. I cannot cry. I do not have the ability.

She has answered my question. It was not worth it. I cannot hate her. How can I? The beauty that was given to her by the gods was her curse. Like many others before her, she was merely a pawn in a much bigger game…As was my Achilles.

“My Paris is dead,” Helen says. Her voice is soft and full of grief. “The curse is lifted…and this…” Helen touches one marred cheek, her blue eyes wide and wet. “This will never rage war ever again.” She reaches for Achilles’ name, her fingers spread wide. “I know I have no right to be here. I suppose I should hate you, but…” _Don’t,_ I want to say, shaking my head. “I feel nothing but remorse now; empty and sad. I am leaving for Sparta. I hope to never return. The beaches of Troy will forever run red with the blood of the men I helped destroy, and I cannot _stand it_.” Her voice breaks and she snatches her hand off the monument, bringing it close to her heart. “ _I’m so sorry_.”

She weeps then, ugly and miserable. I simply watch her, wishing I could feel what she does. My memories tell me that it is a bad feeling… _pain_ , but I would give anything to feel it again…anything at all. I look up at the heavens, watching the clouds swirl lazily. It is a beautiful day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I literally have no idea what this is. I watched Troy again today and needed to write something for Helen. I've always felt bad for her...She was literally forced to love Paris by Aphrodite. You know, the whole, "which one of is is the most beautiful, Paris? Here, let's strip! Btw. If you pick me (Aphrodite) I'll give you the hottest chick around." *rolls eyes*
> 
> Also, I wanted to mess with my mini theory that after a while Patroclus has to rely on memory to relate to anything human...like emotions etc. He's been stuck for so long he's starting to go a little mad.


	8. Just a Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One more thing I ask of you, if you will. Don’t bury my ashes far from yours, Achilles. Let them be as one, just as we were when we grew up together. Bk XXIII:54-107 “Patroclus visits Achilles in dream”

Achilles lies awake next to me. He has not once closed his eyes since slaying Hector. The ‘gift’ he gave my corpse days before lies forgotten in the dust, torn and without hope. I fear I am the same. Like Hector, I am without gold upon my eyes. I cannot pay. I am forced to watch my dearest heart weep over a memory.  

I wish to weep with him. I want to hold him as he does my weight. I want nothing more than to feel his warmth upon my fingers. Just once more. That is all I ask.

I sit by him, cold and blue, my spirit hoping to touch what was once mine. I feel nothing but ice as I watch him clasp onto the grey hand that has slipped from the bed, Achilles’ fingers pink with life and blood. My name passes through his lips like an elegy, soft and pleading. _I am here_. _Oh, here I stay_. I tell him fruitlessly. I wish he would rest. I wish he would eat.

He grips my hand for hours, the great warrior clinging to my fingers like a babe. Still I sit by him, my fingers never once touching his golden curls. I whisper words of sleep in his ear, praying to Hypnos that he would listen to a phantom’s prayer. I pray that he allow what Apollo has denied. Perhaps in the dark the gods will let me touch him. The light I so loved has forsaken me.

The god comes to Achilles after days of unrest. I wish to scream at him. How dare he wait so long? The god looks at me with horrid white eyes and I am given my answer. _Grief._ The god’s bony hands hover where Achilles’ and I’s are joined. He speaks. He gives me hope. He gives me all that I had hoped for. I take the skeletal hand offered to me greedily.

Achilles blinks at me, his green eyes red-rimmed with everlasting sorrow. I can touch him here. I can speak.

 _Achilles_ , I say and I watch him shiver. Oh, it has been forever. _Achilles_ , I say again. No, there is a greater reason for my words. _You sleep and forget me, my love_.  Achilles’ eyes widen in pain. He dares not move. He fears I will disappear.

 _I cannot blink in fear that I will wake and you’ll be gone,_ he tells me with all the sadness in his heart.

 _It is as it should be._ _You neglect me now I’m dead, as you never did when I was alive. Hasten my funeral, and let me pass Hades’ Gate._

 _Patroclus_ , he denies, _Patroclus_. His voice is full of apology and want. I want this too. I want to touch him.

 _The spirits keep me out,_ I tell him in full honesty. _They will not let me join them beyond the river, but leave me wandering in vain this side of the yawning Gate. Clasp my hand, I beg you, for once you’ve given me to the fire, I shall not return._ Achilles shakes his head, tears rolling down his cheeks.

 _Why? Why, when you are finally here, do you ask such things? I have given him to you. I have done my part in this. I wait for the death they promised me, dear heart._ Achilles takes an unsure step towards me. I remain still. _I will give you anything. I will see to it all, just as you wish. Please, please._ His voice begs me, pleading to the god that holds him. _Come to me now. Let me hold you. Let me touch you._ He reaches his hands out to me as my tears begin to fall.

 _You foolish boy,_ I scold tiredly. _The only gift I ever wished for will never come to pass. Now I can only pray that our ashes will be as one in an urn of gold._ He nods at every word, inching ever closer. He stands before me now, our bodies inches apart. I imagine that it is his breath that I feel upon my cold skin. He reaches for me then. He screams when I vanish, words of love still spilling from my lips.

His screams are worse when he wakes. They are as horrid as the day I died. I hate myself for my greediness. It was just a second, but I felt him again. He _touched_ me.

My Achilles weeps loudly and pulls my corpse from the bed, holding me tightly to his chest. There is an underlying smile throughout his pain— _hope_. “Something of us survives,” He whispers against gray skin. “In the House of Hades I am able to touch you. Oh, Patroclus. _Patroclus_.” Achilles looks around the blackened tent, and my shade flickers in the night as I feel his green eyes pass over me. He knows that I am here; that I have always been.

“Wait for me,” he pleads into the night and I press my lips against his own, all knowing that I am not touching him. It does not matter. Soon I will be. Soon we will be together again, as one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of the lines were taken directly from the Iliad, no lie. These boys kill me.


	9. Laughter Lines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You need to have more confidence in yourself, Patroclus. I love you; for you.” He pulls away then, his eyes protective in a way that sets my heart aflame. “Was it my mother again? Do not listen to her. She does not know my heart, only my destiny.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was listening to Bastille's "Laughter Lines" when I wrote this, hence the title lol. @bananasplat Not as whumpy as my others right? XD

I have never been extraordinary. I took a life at the age of nine, and was orphaned at the age of ten. I am not as fit as the others, nor as handsome. By all accounts, I am undoubtedly a failure. However...

“Patroclus.” Pat-ro-clus. Oh. I love the way he says my name. For a moment, I feel like I am worth more than what I am. For a moment, we are equals. Green eyes are upon me, flecked with gold, and I am lost. They are kissed with starlight, and everything that I can never be, but I cannot look away. How can I? They are divine. They remind me of my mortality, and make me want to hold him tighter.

Achilles’ lips part into a smile that could rival Apollo’s rays, and one golden eyebrow arches high. He knows my thoughts, and I try my best to not look away. I can feel my ears burning. I blink when I feel fingers card through my hair, twirling one rogue curl. “Your hair has grown long.” I nod as I lean more into his touch, his other hand sliding up my neck. My hair is thick, this I know. It is wild, and so much unlike Achilles’ silken locks. His rests like a halo, glorious and ethereal. Mine sits like a birds nest, untamable and dull.

“It is in need of a trim. It would probably look better sheared.” I say softly, my cheeks hot. Embarrassed, I reach up and try to push my bangs back, but Achilles stops me. He lifts my chin, his divine eyes warm.

“It looks good. I would hate to see you cut it. Weren’t you trying to grow it out?” He asks me and my cheeks all but burn red. He laughs then, all dimples and joy. He grabs my face and kisses the blush off my face, his smile triggering one of my own. When he pulls away he presses our foreheads together, one hand tangled in my hair. “You need to have more confidence in yourself, Patroclus. I love you; for _you_.” He pulls away then, his eyes protective in a way that sets my heart aflame. “Was it my mother again? Do not listen to her. She does not know my heart, only my destiny.” He pulls my hands to his chest, the white chiffon soft against my fingers. I can feel his heart beat race under my fingertips. “Whatever you want—everything that I am, is yours. You know that don’t you? Patroclus?” My eyes sting and I nod. Yes. I know that. I know, but…

“You deserve more than I.” I say honestly, the stab of my heart nearly unbearable. I hate them, these words that haunt me. Achilles presses my hands closer to his chest, stepping all the more closer. His face in less than an inch away now, and his beauty is unfathomable. His green eyes are like the sea, confident, and bold.

“No one tells me what I do and do not deserve, Patroclus. Not my mother. Not the Gods…Nor you. I wish you could see yourself from my eyes. You are beautiful. You are strong. You are brave. You deserve _so much_. I am but a man. I bleed, and I will age and die. I am _mortal_.” He presses my hands harder against his raging heart to prove his point. “You make me happier than I have ever been, Patroclus. My smile is because of _you_.” I choke a smile in his dispense, my heart happy. I pull my hands from his and cup his face, kissing the smile off of it. His lips taste of honey, warm and soft, and _mine_.

“And mine you,” I say as we pull apart, my eyesight blurry. “I only wish to not hinder you in any way. I want to see you achieve everything you have ever hoped for.” His lips brush away my tears.

“Nothing will stop me, love.” Achilles says, his words ringing true in my ears. My arm hair stands on end because of it. He pulls me closer, confident and youthful. “With you by my side I could slay even the Titans!” My eyes widen and he laughs, his golden head whipping back with it. He takes off then, leaving me blinking in the warm sand. “Shall I go and defeat them now? Do you think their ancient bones can handle my blade?” He jokes over his shoulder, his smile too bright.

“You mustn’t joke like that!” I call and chase after him, a smile of my own growing on my face, my fears forgotten. His laughter is music to my ears, and I beg my legs to go faster. He is right. He _wants_ me here. He… _Achilles_ …he _loves_ me. My legs feel like they can fly.

 

 


	10. The Promise of Gold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I did not want this. This is not part of the promise. This is not the gold I want." In which Achilles cuts off his hair to give to Patroclus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back!! :) I've had one hell of a semester...

Blond hair falls in ragged strands. I reach for them, my fingers like smoke. They fall with ease, past my shade and onto the earth that does not deserve them. The blade is as relentless as the man holding it. I wish it to stop. _Achilles_ , I beg. _Achilles. Achilles_. My pleas are unheard in the darkness. I sit with him in the sand, cold, waiting for the promise he made…The promise of gold. Achilles’s fingers are entwined in what is left of his golden hair, his tears mixing with the salt of the sea. I watch him, his head low in a grief beyond measure. I did not want this. This is not part of the promise. This is not the gold I want.

I stand when he does. I walk the same slow path, my shade forever his—forever by his side. As he reaches the pyre I too look upon the ashen corpse. My body is wrapped in linen, and scattered with flowers. The petals, pink and red are a shock against my gray skin. They too shall burn. I watch Achilles as I did in life as he takes my limp hand and places long golden strands between my fingers.

My gold. My Achilles.

He then kisses cold lips, pure and uncaring of the eyes that watch him. The men of the earth have felt the pain of my passing, as have the Gods above it. There has been a tear in fate, Achilles destroying it with his own hands. His nose bumps mine, golden tears dancing upon his long lashes. They slide down my sallow cheeks as his warmth leaves, the hand gifted with gold tucked close to an un-beating heart.

I press my face into his neck, silent as he extends one shaking hand to Briseis. She stands solemn, her face tearstained and ruined. Two coins are placed in Achilles’s hand, and I cling to the promise dearly. Soon, the gold tells me as it is placed over my eyes one-by-one with shaking fingers. I want to kiss them in gratitude. Instead I press a whisper of a kiss against my dearest heart’s wet cheek. _Thank you. Thank you._

I wrap my arms around his neck as he takes hold of the torch given to him. I whisper my love endlessly into his ear, my soul heavy with need. As the flames lick the straw I find peace. For the first time I can feel something. I am drawn away from Achilles gradually. With every blade lit, I am forced another step back into the body that once held me. Achilles is restrained as he tries to follow after me. Not yet. Not yet. As I leave the earth, I see his mouth cry out my name, _Pat-ro-clus_. The promise has been full-filled. I smile.


	11. Achilles's Promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I know,” Achilles said. “This is my promise to you. Wear it as I did. Protect it for me in my place. One day I will return for it.” For you. His words sang to me. I nodded wetly and threw my arms around his neck. We held each other until it was impossible to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dreamt of this last night...sad right? Guh. Patroclus can never get a break...
> 
> I will most likely continue this one because it was super fun to write! :)   
> What do you think? Leave me a comment? :D

Achilles and I had been friends since we were kids. When all else failed, we had each other. We loved with a fierceness no one could understand. Even we could barely comprehend it—this love. As a child, I wanted nothing to do with the world around me. I wanted nothing but Achilles. So, Achilles became my shield. I would cling to him when I was frightened, content on knowing I was safe. I would hide in the comfort of our naïve love, afraid. Of what, I did not know. All I knew was that everything would be all right as long as Achilles was by my side. It was like that for many years. We were glued to each other. Wherever Achilles went, I would go too. Our parents appeased us, allowing our folly. We were children, after all. 

“You’re okay,” Achilles would tell me. He would stroke my hair, and I believed him. Deep down I despised my weakness. I knew that I would not be able to hide forever. What scared me so? I still did not understand. Achilles did not seem to wonder as I did. He seemed happy. Like he wanted nothing else. 

Our world was torn apart when Achilles was ten, and I nine. 

Achilles was moving. 

He was leaving, and I was distraught. 

“You’re okay. You’ll be all right,” Achilles told me stiffly. He bumped our noses together. What a lie. He was all I knew. I felt like dying. “Don’t cry, Patroclus!” I did not want to listen, and my tears blurred him from my sight. 

Our classmates made him cards. They were scribbled, and colorful, words of goodbye, and I hated them. Children I had never had the want to know gave him small gifts. Those days came in a blur. I did not want to believe it. I denied it with all my heart up until the day he was to leave.

We sat on my bed for a long time, quiet. We held hands, both of us trembling. Everything was changing. I did not want to let go. “I have something for you,” Achilles told me after a while. He let go of my sweaty hand. His eyes were blood-shocked and red. With grace that was only his, he unclasped the seashell necklace around his neck and handed it to me. I stared at it, my small fingers trembling. It was something he always wore. I had never seen him without it. His neck seemed more vulnerable somehow. 

“Your mom gave you this. You should not give it away. Not to me.” Though I tried to give it back, my heart swelled as much as my eyes did. I held the necklace to my heart.

“I know,” Achilles said. “This is my promise to you. Wear it as I did. Protect it for me in my place. One day I will return for it.” For you. His words sang to me. I nodded wetly and threw my arms around his neck. We held each other until it was impossible to. 

I stood with my parents as I saw the gold of Achilles’s hair disappear from my sight, the car taking everything from me as Achilles’s parents had before it. My mom held my hand tightly. 

“You’ll make more friends,” My father told me stiffly after the car was truly gone from sight. He knew what Achilles meant to me. They all knew. My mother nodded dopily and squeezed my hand again. I shook my head and ran to my room. I slammed the door and jumped in my bed. Underneath the shield of my covers, I wept. I wept for many days. I wept and held the smooth shell of Achilles’s necklace to my heart.


End file.
